


Love Don't Die

by chartreuseian



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuseian/pseuds/chartreuseian
Summary: Decades on decades, light year on light year, and yet familiar faces always seem to end up at M's door. Things have changed. But mostly it's all still the same.





	1. Where's my invitation?

Persephone tucked a curl of her sea-green hair behind her ear, biting her tongue to stifle a yawn. She loved working for M, she truly did, but it was days like this that made her question why she’d followed the damn woman from system to system until she agreed to take Persephone on. Most of the time she did not regret the tenacity that had resulted in her position with M, but man... These meetings blew. Big time.

Like, c’mon. M was practically a deity, at the very least some kind of myth bought to life. Perhaps it was her willingness to deal with the petty problems of those who chose to live in her system that made her seem even more omnipotent in their eyes. Or perhaps it was the stories that trailed after her like whispers of fog, clinging to her like a second skin.

Whatever it was, it made for very boring Tuesday afternoons.

Stretching her back, Persephone rolled her eyes at this latest claimant, muttering on about a neighbour or something. Apparently there was a border dispute. Or something. Persephone wasn’t exactly paying much attention to it all. She never really did, no matter how important M insisted the whole process was. It was boring. Even paperwork was better than listening to claimant petitions. Hell, cleaning out a Priantex enclosure was better than claimant petitions.

Sometimes Persephone could even see the great, ever patient M growing frustrated with the menial arguments of her tenants. It was all crap they could deal with on their own. In fact, whenever M was out of the system, they seemed to manage quite fine. Of course, the first day back, they were always inundated with pleas for her to come and sort out which patch of slime covered nonsense belonged to which three winged water dweller.

Considering theirs was the most peaceful system within a hundred quarters, it made everything seem insufferably petty.

So much for a self-governed community.

“Human beings, regardless of the peace around them, will always seek out conflict,” M had once said when confronted with the pettiness of those living in her system.

“But they aren’t even human,” Persephone had argued. “Most of us here aren’t.”

“Oh Percy,” M had replied, chuckling. “Human or Humanplus, we’re all just the same when push comes to shove. You should know that by now.”

Laying her head on her hand, Persephone flicked her gaze back to where M was sitting behind her ancient desk, looking too serene. It was the clearest indicator that the other woman was bored beyond even her interminable patience.

“Enough,” M finally said, raising a hand to signal that the Lycan before her was done speaking for the time being. “Mischeiit, you know full well that I am a busy woman-“

“And I am thankful for being presented with the chance to bring this grievance to your attention,” the man blurted out, taking another step towards M. One more step and the forcefield would activate, Persephone noted idly.

“You cannot sell another man’s crops,” M said flatly. “The water in the lake belongs to you however you have no claim to the rivers that flow from it. It was not _your_ water that grew your neighbours crops. You will repay him for what you took.”

“But-“

“That is final,” M said, her voice gravelly and enough to send shivers up Persephone’s twin spinal columns. “Leave.”

And with that, the man evaporated through the teleport beam, leaving the office peaceful once more. M rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily.

“The Comms are the worst,” Persephone said sympathetically. “At least the Hollows and the Surfies bring _actual_ problems to you.”

“They are just...” M said, obviously struggling for a more polite way to couch what Persephone had said. “They are simpler,” she said finally. “Simpler. Their problems relate directly to that which troubles them which is-“

“Simpler,” Persephone said with a sigh. “I get it. Can we go now?”

M shook her head and smiled, running a hand over her short hair as she looked down at the screen on her desk. Resting a hand at the nape of her neck and playing with the small curls there, M frowned.

“Unfortunately not,” she said. “One more person to see today, I’m afraid. Something about wanting a slave.”

Persephone groaned and slumped forwards. Burying her face in her arms upon her desk, she sighed.

“It’s a council member,” M remarked with surprise. “Well, this could be... interesting.”

“Or completely pointless and mind-numbing,” Persephone interjected.

“Chin up, Perse,” M said. “Next up is cleaning duty in the SHU, which would you prefer?”

“Cleaning,” came the automatic response. “And that’s not even a lie.”

M chuckled indulgently, making Persephone feel more like her child than a protégé.

She was about to snap something at M when the doors flew open and a very disgruntled looking man came striding in. That in itself caught Persephone’s attention. Was there something wrong with the teleporter?

“M,” the man grumbled, bowing to her in a manner that was clearly out of habit, than any true respect. Not that M would complain, she hated all that reverence.

“Councillor Joff,” she said, nodding her head in his direction before settling back in her chair. “I understand you are seeking my verdict on slavery?”

Persephone slumped back into her chair, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. This was gonna take forever.

“That was my original intention,” Joff said, scowling darkly enough to make Persephone contemplate reaching for a zapper. The man was Humanplus, she knew that much but the specifics escaped her memory. Surely a few thousand volts would just knock him out, yeah?

“Your original intention?” M echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“I would ask to change my petition,” Joff said, nodding once. “I seek permission to banish a being from the system.”

M’s eyebrow rose higher at that though she said nothing.

“This... this... this monster has been terrorising Catroisa for weeks now. He has broken in to countless houses, terrified young and old alike before taking whatever pleases him. We would have pursued imprisonment had he not proceeded to hold at hostage our most secure facility. Before destroying it. We had thought to put him to work in the mines, to further the tunnels with his brute strength but he... he... he...” Joff’s face grew red, his fists balling as a dangerous little vein threatened to burst on his great shiny forehead.

“Spit it out, Joff,” Persephone cut in. The little old man was known for his dramatics and temper, neither of which she had the patience for in that moment. M shot her a dark look supposedly to frighten her into silence but Persephone merely shrugged.

“He defiled the offices of the Councillor’s.”

Well that explained the anger. The Councillor’s offices were a grand building in the centre of the underground city, resplendent and luxurious. And, within its walls were fantastically large portraits of each Councillor. Joff was unnaturally proud of the image of him painted on one of the great walls.

“Do you have the man in question with you?” M asked, her humour well hidden so that only Persephone could detect the faintest trace.

“Of course,” Joff said, raising his arm to signal several guards apparently waiting in the room just outside.

They marched in, carrying between them a thin man in a torn up suit. He held his head high, despite his captivity, grinning crookedly at his predicament. A loony, Persephone decided in an instant. A total whack-job.

The guards dumped the man before M’s desk and though he crumpled, his grin stayed in place.

Narrowing her eyes, Persephone waited to see the captive man’s next move. Would he attack? The force field would keep M safe but subduing the crazies was never Persephone’s favourite of tasks. She liked adventure, not the bag’n’tag routine M so lusted after.

And this guy looked particularly crazy. People who had been held in the Councillor’s jail were usually a little less... cocky. He was filthy enough for it to be the case, but though he was thin, it did not seem to be from malnutrition that accompanied the worst of the prisoners they saw. M worked hard to try and keep the prisons at least slightly humane but her whole ‘no interference’ policy often made that tricky.

The man chuckled, something predatory in his gaze that made Persephone glad it wasn’t directed at her.

 “Nikola,” M breathed.

Her face was ashen, her hands holding tightly to the edge of her desk.  

“Helen, darling,” the man cooed, his icy blue eyes glued to M. “Miss me?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He says things, she says things, snark happens then she says no things and he says more things.

“What the hell is going on?” M hissed, glaring first at the man on the carpet before her before shifting her gaze towards the Councillor Joff.

“This despicable excuse for a creature has defiled all that we hold dear,” Joff sneered.

“Did he put you up to this?”

“Come now, Helen,” the man said, giving M a smirk. His gaze had not wavered from her from the moment he entered the room and it gave Persephone a strange feeling.

M stood, her face now flushed with colour as she lent forwards.

“Is this some kind of elaborate joke?” she screeched, eyes narrowed.

“I-“ the Councillor tried. “But M... I...”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me,” the captive said fondly, shuffling forwards.

In the blink of an eye M had her stunner out and aimed at the man on the floor.

The councillor shrieked like a juvenile Wassil during mating season, tripping over his own feet as he scrambled backwards. He ran into one of his burly guards, grasping the man’s bicep until his knuckles turned white. Persephone could at least understand that reaction. M with a gun was, well, intimidating.

“It’s good to know some things never change,” the captive said, the smirk not dropping from his lips. “You still look sexy as hell with a firearm.”

“Firearm?” Persephone echoed. It was an archaic term and completely inaccurate. M’s weapon did not sprout fire.

M’s gaze flicked over to Persephone for the first time since the men had entered the room and her expression changed somewhat. Taking a deep breath, she pursed her lips and lowered her weapon somewhat.

“You will tell me the meaning of this,” she said, her tone frosty as she gave Joff a pointed look. “I do not take kindly to these kinds of... jests.”

“Jests?” the councillor echoed. “I-I... But M-“

“Enough! I will not take being treated like a novelty.”

“Novelty?” Joff spluttered. “You’re a mad-woman, that’s what you are.”

M’s nostrils flared. The weapon came back up.

Persephone’s eyes widened as she watched her boss hit the button to charge the weapon.

“Do it,” the captive urged from his place on the ground. “C’mon, Helen. Shoot him. Do it. The man’s a regular schmuck. _And_ served me coffee.”

The growl that slipped through M’s lips was enough to prompt Persephone into action. Swinging herself up and over her desk, she moved smoothly to stand before the quivering, spluttering councillor.

“Time to leave now, Joff,” she said cheerfully, stepping a touch to close. He looked ready to protest until his eyes fell to the cool stone of her exposed forearms and then he seemed to remember why there was no body guard in the room.

“I-I want to know about my petition,” he said weakly, still backing from the room. “I will have my revenge on that man!”

“In good time,” Persephone said, a syrupy smile still on her lips. She kept moving as the councillor and his body guards shuffled backwards, making sure to keep her body firmly between M and the disgruntled onlookers.

“But that man!” Joff cried as Persephone reached for the button to close the doors. “He is my property! I must have him back!”

At that, Persephone let the smile drop from her face, slamming her hand against the control pad as she rolled her eyes at the man before her.

Her smile almost returned as the doors slammed shut halfway through Joff’s increasingly weak protestation of ownership. Almost. Because nothing, not even the most pompous git (M’s word) in desperate fits could truly make her forget about M and her loaded gun.

For the most part, M was level headed. Sensible even. Except for the odd day when something triggered what could be considered an outrageous reaction. Persephone was smart enough not to call the other woman on it though. If she’d lived even half the life she was rumoured to have experienced... Well Persephone thought she was far saner than anyone could really expect from a woman a couple of centuries old, at least.

“Cool it, M,” Persephone said, strolling back towards where the older woman was still panting and scowling and being all together displeased. In truth, Persephone was more rattled than she’d ever let on. For the time being though, she figured cool and collected was the best act to play.

Walking towards the man who was still kneeling on the carpet (and still grinning like a madman), Persephone pursed her lips, looking him up and down.

“Leave us, Persephone,” M said tightly.

“Hey, don’t you go using my full name on me,” Persephone cried. “ _I_ didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be mad at me!”

“I am not mad,” M ground out.

“Yeah, and Joff’s not out there tearing out what little hair he still has. Now get a grip, M.”

“Oooh, M,” the man crooned, suddenly breaking in to their conversation. “I like it. Very Bond. Very badass. Do you have a nickname too, green eyes? Or should I just call you Queen of the Underworld?”

“Underworld?” Persephone snorted. “Ha. Sure. Whatever you want.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m curious. That hair colour of yours, is it natural?”

“Nikola!” M interjected, giving the man a warning glare.

“Ah, so you do remember me! Delightful! Now introduce me to Protégé, will you?”

“Do you actually even speak a proper language?” Persephone asked curiously. He kept throwing out such odd words.

“I am fluent in over 12 languages,” the man said haughtily.

“So you mean 13?” Persephone shot back.

“No, I mean more than 12,” he snapped.

“Which is 13.”

“Which is a variety of numbers. Helen, please control your talking sea-grass. She’s making fun of me and we haven’t even been introduced.”

“I’m Persephone,” she said bluntly, crossing her arms. “Tell me your name, please?”

“And why should I do that?”

“Because I only aim for the face when I know the identity of the jaw I will have to be wiring afterwards,” Persephone hissed.

“I would recommend maintaining my personal space,” the man said coolly, though the threat was clear enough.

Persephone merely snorted.

“Don’t think withholding your name will keep your bones intact.”

“You do not frighten me, Plant Princess.”

“Then tell me your name.”

“My name,” the man said, making it clear that though he had been goaded into discussion, he most certainly had _not_ been goaded into discussion, “is Nikola Tes-.”

“Liar!” M screamed, striking him across the face with her weapon. When she had moved around the table, Persephone was unsure. “Don’t you dare!” she continued, her voice growing higher with each syllable. Her face was flushed, cheeks damp and the careful cut of her hair becoming a little less careful and a lot more disarrayed.

Persephone took a step back on instinct. She was a fighter, almost indestructible when it came down to it, but something in M’s eye was more than even she was willing to take on.

A strange kind of ringing silence settled on the room, punctuated only by M’s shuddering breath.

Persephone found herself glued to the spot, her attention flicking between M and the man who had not moved since receiving the not insignificant blow to the temple. He was still upright though, something that impressed Persephone. There was already a bruise forming, even a trickle of blood marring the otherwise pale skin.

Slowly, the man straightened up.

“Ow,” he said, drawing out the word though Persephone could hear a slight note of shock in his tone. Apparently he hadn’t anticipated M’s love of misusing her weapons.

He looked straight towards M, frowning in a particularly disapproving manner.

“Uncalled for, Helen,” he chastised. He closed his eyes, jutting out his jaw and rolling his neck before he bared a mouth full of dangerous jagged teeth and red-rimmed black eyes flashed ominously.

Even M took a step back at that. The man, Nikola she supposed he should be called, stood carefully, the sound of snapping metal following his progress. Persephone watched as the cuffs that had supposedly restrained him fell to the floor with a clink.

“Believe me now, Magnus,” the man growled, stretching out his body before holding his hands out before him. “These are not stick-on,” he continued, waving his taloned fingers at her.

“Holy shit,” Persephone breathed. He looked... badass. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen transformations before, but this guy was something else. He looked old. Horribly, horribly old but somehow trapped in time too.

“Nikola Tesla,” the man said, turning sharply towards Persephone. “Charmed, I’m sure.” He inclined his head at her briefly but made no attempt to greet her in any other way.

“Call me Perse,” she replied, fighting the urge to step backwards.

“I shan’t,” Tesla replied, preening despite his dirtied suit. He opened his mouth once more but M cut in.

“You’re lying,” she whispered. Persephone turned, not quite how sure to react to the tears welling in her bosses eyes. M was shaking her head, shuffling backwards until the wood of her desk barred her from further retreat. “You can’t...”

“Helen,” Tesla said softly, taking a step towards her. M flinched.

“No,” she whispered, hands clamping on the edge of her desk.

Tesla pursed his lips and sighed, crossing his arms as he returned to his human form.

“My name is Nikola Tesla. I was born on the 10th of July, 1856 in Serbia. We met at Oxford, at Christmas, at James Watson’s party. You were there with your father. We didn’t dance.”

“Stop this,” M growled.

“Your name is Helen Patricia Magnus,” he said confidently. “You were born on the 27th of August. Your mother passed when you were eight, your father clung around well into the 21st century.”

“No,” M said again, her voice getting stronger.

“You were engaged to our friend John, full name Montague John Druitt. Also known as Jack the Ripper. He was your first patient.”

“Stop.”

“We were part of something called the Five. We worked on what you termed ‘the fringes of sciences’.”

“No!”

“Your favourite food is raspberry tarts. You prefer Earl Grey to English Breakfast. When we first met your favourite flower was the rose but when I bought flowers for your last birthday, I bought lilies and you said they were your favourite. You sleep on the left hand side of the bed. You put your shirt on before your pants. In the heat of summer you used to hold my hand as we slept because it was too hot to manage much else. You snore only after you drink spirits, not wine. You like cereals with fruit for breakfast. I have seen you drink coffee on only one occasion and you couldn’t even finish the cup. You prefer to shoot me in the knee cap because it’s bloody and painful and stops me chasing you down. You like it when I kiss your neck but not by your ear because I get distracted by your hair.”

He took a step toward her.

“I know you, Helen Magnus. And you know me.”


	3. Save your life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cue fight scene...

The air was thick and still as Persephone looked between her boss and the man spouting gibberish. Well, it sounded like gibberish, and it felt like gibberish to her, though M’s glassy expression didn’t exactly scream ‘this man in nuts, let’s kill him now’.

Slowly, carefully, doing her very best to keep the crazy man from noticing, Persephone began shifting her weight. The panic button wasn’t too far out of her reach. If she could hit it without him seeing-

The click of an ancient pistol stopped her in her tracks.

“Don’t,” he said simply. He hadn’t even turned his head but the gun was perfectly aimed between her eyes.

Persephone complied. Crazy people, she knew, followed through on threats.

He took another measured step towards M, the arm holding the gun not faltering for a second. Frantically Persephone flicked her eyes between M and the maniac, searching for the hiding place the gun had come from, or some signal to help her decide her next mood.

M flinched as he took another step forward. They were barely a metre apart now, but with the way M was leaning back, leaning away, the gap seemed far more threatening than that.

“Are you going to say something?” he asked casually around the fangs. “Anything?”

M opened her mouth then shut it again.

“Right then.”

She tried again, a strangled noise this time escaping before she shut her mouth firmly.

“Ever the conversationalist,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Getting rusty with age, are we? The Magnus I knew could talk someone to death. Could talk _me_ to death. A true talent.”

M’s jaw twitched.

“I suppose I could just kiss you, but it’s not as fun if it isn’t to shut you-.”

M’s closed fist collided with the side of his face and a sickening crack echoed around the space.

“Ow,” he said, one hand on his cheek as he glared at her, but M didn’t respond. She came at him again, this time with her other fist. Persephone watched as the man’s head snapped in the opposite reaction.

“Ow,” he said again, more affronted this time.

But M wasn’t done. She lurched forward, the vicious, calculated fighter Persephone knew finally coming out to play. Crazy pants, however, was prepared this time and countered each of M’s blows with his own. Their fists flew with an inhuman speed, both ducking and throwing punches but only M seemed to want to hurt him. The man, Tesla, whatever he was, countered each punch and jumped clear of the kicks, but made no attempt to really fight back.

Until he did.

Maybe his patience was wearing thin. Maybe he was a vicious, uncontrollable monster beneath the pretence of civility. Maybe he just wanted a fight.

But whatever the reason, Persephone watched, jaw slack at the subtle yet immediate change in the fight.

“I wanted to talk, Helen,” he growled, a fist landing in her solar plexus. “As in with our mouths. Not our fists.”

She merely grunted in response, aiming a roundhouse kick at his head. Persephone knew M had made a mistake the moment her body left the ground. It was a showy move, not a powerful one. It meant that this meant more to M than winning. This was personal.

Tesla took advantage of her airborne state and, after ducking the heel that sailed towards his face, tackled M out of the air and to the ground. He might have been wiry, but he was clearly stronger than he looked. He pinned M with ease, sitting on her stomach and pinning her arms to her sides. She thrashed beneath him, face twisted into a violent grimace but the man barely shifted. He grinned widely, showing off once again his teeth.

“If you want to be on top,” he crooned, “all you have to do is ask.”

M thrashed even more angrily, her fingers clawing and clenching uselessly beside her legs. It was this moment that Persephone’s brain finally caught up with the situation. Unthinkingly, she dived for the abandoned pistol, sliding in beside the pair and pointing the gun at the man’s temple.

“Ask nicely and I’ll save your life,” she grunted, somewhat breathless.

Tesla, apparently only just remembering that they weren’t alone, turned to her and snarled.

“Shut up,” she snarled back, firing before he could fire off yet another cutting retort.

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started over a year ago and the beautiful Kat was so supportive, and a total sweetheart about the fact that I'm mega slack. Life is nutso, and I only have a vague idea of where this is headed, so bear with me!


End file.
